The Doubt
by B1329-0
Summary: A meeting, five years later, and a hard decision.


Pensé que jamás lo diría pero... my first english fic is here.

I warn you all that **English isn't my first language**, so... the probability of mistakes in the fic is **VERY VERY VERY VERY BIG.** I've tryed to write it as best as possible but I'm not perfect.

This is a translation of one of my fics **_(Dudas);_ **a fic with a _open end_...

_(Como siempre, temas de **copyright** y demás... yo escribo sólo para pasar el rato, así que, señor Harris, esté tranquilo al respecto)_

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For him, which had been looking forward to seeing her since their last meeting in Memphis, five years had been too long time. The return to the United States would be a suicide; but he needed to see her again. He needed it almost as much as breathing and although he knew her morality was strong, also knew that she would come to his call. He would not need to insist much to attract her to the new hideout; she was too professional to let an opportunity like that.

When he finally was in front of her, after all this time, he didn't say nothing. Neither of them said anything. The silence between them was more eloquent than any word.

He walked in circles around her, not approached or a single centimeter. His maroon eyes shone with force under the intense light that strained out of the window. There were reddish sparkles in his eyes, or at least Clarice believed it. Never in her life had seen eyes as the Doctor Lecter and, despite the situation, never was threatened by the predator gaze. Lecter smiled briefly, a hardly noticeable gesture. Clarice gasped confused when Lecter winked his left eye. She trembled and clenched her gun with force. Lecter felt the vibration through her body, from head to feet.

_-Clariiiice_ - whispered Doctor Lecter with a soft purr.

His voice was warm and quiet; with a charmed monotony. Many had been the nights where she had hoped to hear that voice. Lonely nights in which escaping of herself and her strong moral, her mind had created passionate scenarios with him. Later, Clarice had rejected those ideas; but for a few seconds on those nights, Hannibal took possession her body and her soul. Capturing Clarice's senses and making her burn of desire in her helpless bed.

His look made her recall some of her wildest thoughts. Heat gripped her face and knew was lost in the acumen of his rival. He knew it; Clarice was sure, somehow the Doctor Lecter had read what was going through her head at that precise moment. She knew it when saw his pupils dilated and the way in which the red tip of his tongue crossed his lips while outlined a slight smile. Clarice was nervous at the thought of that he discovered that it was the motive of her nocturnal endeavours and stepped to the front. Doctor Lecter did not expect it; he straightened up in front of her and cocked his head. He was very near the staircase and not realized a loose wood that awaited him few centimeters behind. The next step of Clarice took him back, stumbling over the wood and losing the balance, to his surprise and that of Clarice. She saw him fall; could do nothing except seeing him collapsing down the stairs. Everything happened, in fact, very quickly; but for her the time slowed at that moment. She took the hands to the mouth and let out a muffled scream while he stopped sharply against the concrete wall. Lying on the floor, Hannibal tried to raise the right arm in the direction to Clarice; but fell inert on his chest.

Doctor Lecter stood motionless. For any other agent of the FBI, to any of her coworkers, that would have been a golden opportunity; a safe ascend and be the center of attention and the envy over a long period of time. Hannibal Lecter was among the ten most wanted; his catch might suppose to Starling the opportunity of her life; but there was something that would not let her take that step. She had studied the profile of Lecter, she had memorized his story and had horrified by his actions; but all that had been before knowing him more thoroughly; after all, Doctor Lecter was not a simply cannibal, was a deep and interesting man. Someone with whom the basic act of speaking, turned into a real pleasure. The man who was in her mind, who traced her past, bringing darkness to her ghosts and forcing her to confront them.

From the top of the stairs, she watched him in silence, he looked so vulnerable now... Clarice felt a pang in her chest. Still trembling, she kept the gun and slowly descended the stairs to reach him. His shirt was stained with blood and Clarice felt a kind of despised to that fact, like if the fluid had desecrated the purity of white shirt. A slight trickle of blood began to flow from his right ear, Clarice knelt and gently wiped the path marked on his face.

The decision was difficult; to save Lecter would have to put her life at risk and cross the line of loyalty to the FBI. She had almost given her life to the job. Two years before, she had acquired the coveted name of "Special Agent" and was now at the crossroads among saving to a killer or notify and request reinforcements to ending the leak that Lecter had begun in Memphis.

The simple question that remained in her head, blocking any action for a few seconds - _Ambulance or FBI?_ -.

A tear ran down her cheek and sighed defeated, Clarice looked for the phone in the pocket of her jacket.

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_**Write in English is a challenge for me; as you all can see, I'm harmful to the English language, but... I'm very sorry. I'm pretty sure, I've fucked the language with a simple fic... xD**_


End file.
